


Bad Day At Black Rock

by italiandancer1275



Series: Supernatural [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, Cursed Sam, Hunters & Hunting, Impala, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character, Reader-Insert, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 00:05:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/italiandancer1275/pseuds/italiandancer1275
Summary: The third installment of the reader insert series. What adventures await when the boys stumble upon a cursed rabbit's foot? What new facts about you do we learn? Lots of fun stuff awaits! Just try not to lose your shoe ;)Y/N= Your nameY/N/N= Your nickname





	1. Orders

You couldn’t remember what it felt like to sleep in a bed. The past few days had been spent slaving over books and Internet research, passing out either on a desk or a couch. Nothing. Demons had been making deals pretty much since the dawn of time and not a single person knew of a way to get out of this situation. Well screw humanity, it was essentially useless and you were officially exhausted. You laid your head down on the latest book, _Et Deals & Mones_, and slowly drifted to sleep. Screw consciousness.

“You touched it? Dammit Sam!” Your head bolted up and your arm instinctually grabbed for your gun, knocking four books over in the process. Son of a bitch. You stood up and began to reorder the series when you noticed a certain picture fall to the floor. Bobby must’ve been using it as a book mark. You picked it up and your heart was torn. It was your father. It was his first tour and low and behold he was smiling with an arm around, you guessed it, John Winchester himself. He always was happiest out in the field. You turned to Bobby (who was facing away from you still on the phone) and quickly folded the picture, tucking it in your back pocket. You had so many issues with the man, yet still had the strange urge to keep the artifact. Analyze that, Shrinks of the world. Bobby speaking again brought you out of your thoughts. “His lockup? Yea I knew. Hell, I built those curse boxes for him. Listen you have got a serious problem. That rabbit’s foot ain’t no dime-store notion. It’s real hoodoo. Old-world stuff. Made by a Baton Rouge conjure woman about one-hundred years ago.” What the hell had the boys gotten into now? Bobby suddenly turned around and saw you staring. He rolled his eyes and motioned for you to get him a pen. Quickly following his instruction, he began to write something down. “It’s not a luck charm, it’s a curse! She made it to kill people, Sam!” He finished what he was writing and passed it to you. Quickly scanning it, you recognized it as an address. Ah, so the boys had screwed up and Bobby was sending help. Good to know he still thought your skills were up to par. After that mock werewolf hunt, he had you wondering. He practically threw his shoulder out motioning for you to 'get the hell outa there' and you ran upstairs to pack. “See, you touch it, you own it...”.

It took you less than five minutes to get your bag ready. Your black duffel was definitely big enough to fit a few days worth of clothes, toiletries, and your gun. You figured if you really needed anything else, the Winchester’s had a trunk full of goodies you could borrow from. You decided to go with your normal hunting look. Dark wash skinny jeans, a racer-back grey tank and a black denim jacket to go over. You tied your boots and were ready to go. Practically jogging down the stairs, you did a two finger salute to Bobby and packed up in your Jeep. Hey, you were just following orders. No one said you couldn’t be excited about them.


	2. The Diner

You made the left into the Biggersons that the boys were supposed to be at. Immediately recognizing the impala, you parked a few spaces down from Her. Admittedly, she was an awesome car, but as far as inconspicuous went, she wasn’t. You locked your jeep and gave the impala a nice pat as you made your way into the restaurant. You looked left, then right until you spotted the mop of shaggy brown hair and the dark blue jacket that were, essentially, the Winchester boys. You dodged the tables and the crowd and carefully walked towards them, wondering if Bobby had even mentioned that you were coming. Suddenly, a pair of green eyes lit up. “Well, hey look who it is.” The brown hair you spotted earlier turned around to give you a genuine smile. As you approached the table, Dean stood indicating for you to squeeze in. Now you could be an ass and slide in next to Sam just for the fun of it, but after what you had learned about the older Winchester, you sorta got the kicked puppy vibe and slid in next to him. Not dwelling too much on that, it was your turn to greet the boys. “Miss me?” Sam’s smile widened as he took his eyes off the laptop to answer your question. “What are you doing here?” That would be a negative on the Bobby informing the boys’ question. “Well, I heard you two got into some trouble and Bobby sent reinforcements.” You gestured to yourself making Dean smirk and Sam smile before replying. “Well, I wish it was under better circumstances, but it’s still good to see ya.”

“Mhm.” You would never understand how Sam seemed to be just so okay with saying those kinds of things outright. No sarcastic comments or hidden agendas. He was just genuinely happy to see you. And that made you uncomfortable. “So, based on what I eavesdropped, Bobby seems to think this thing is pretty serious.” There we go. Back to professional. Just the way you liked it. Then again, Dean was indulging himself with an ice cream sundae and you oddly felt like a babysitter, never mind the fact that he was five years older than yourself. “Bobby’s right. This lore goes _way_ back. Pure hoodoo.” Sam shut his computer and you could mildly sense the worry that was emanating from him. “You can’t just cut one off any rabbit. It has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the 13th.” Wow, it really was some serious hoodoo. Dean placed his dish down waving his finger. “I say from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson’s.” Brain freeze. Man, how did Sam work in these conditions? It was like having a toddler on reserve that was good with a gun. He only seemed to laugh it off, clearly used to it. Well alright then.

Finally a waitress appeared to hopefully ask if the new arrival to the table wanted anything. You would’ve killed for water. “Can I freshen you up?” Great. She was clearly flirting with Sam and had no interest in doing her damn job. “Yeah. Yeah sure.” He slid the mug to her, a clear indication that he found her attractive. Or maybe he was just being polite. You had to keep reminding yourself that Sam wasn’t like most hunters, making it extremely hard (and irritating) to figure him out. “Thanks.” Their eyes met and locked. You raised your eyebrows clearly seeing the situation that was about to occur of the coffee mug overflowing. “Oh!” you smirked, a bit proud of yourself for predicting the inevitable. “No, don’t worry, it’s uh, it’s okay. I got it.” You grabbed a few napkins and tossed them at Sam. “it’s no trouble, really.” Wow. Girl was throwing out all her moves today. Maybe she planned to spill his coffee. Kudos for her, you’d have to try that sometime. “Sorry about that.” She leaned forward. Okay lady, you’re getting a bit obvious now. “It’s alright.” Sam locked eyes with Dean, not knowing where else to look. Dude, she clearly wanted you to gaze down the shirt. Go for it.

Dean sat there mildly annoyed at the fact that he was completely ignored in favor of Sam. That probably didn’t happen often. She finally walked away stealing one last glance over her shoulder at Sam. Eh, your ass was better. Both boys leaned forward in awe. _Oh c’mon guys really??_ You coughed bringing their attention back. “Dude, if you were _ever_ gonna get lucky…” Sam blushed and his eyes flashed to yours, embarrassed that Dean would bring it up in front of company. “Chill out.” You rolled your eyes and finally reached over to steal some of Dean’s water, as your order had never been taken. Sam half smiled and went to pick up his mug when boiling coffee was thrown onto his lap after dropping the cup. “Oh! Oh Jeez!” He stood up quickly to get it off. Apparently too quickly, as he practically knocked both a waiter and a tray full of food on the ground. Dishes were thrown and broken and the waiter was on his ass. “Sorry.” _What in the hell had just happened?_ Sam turned to face you and Dean, who probably had matching expressions of dropped jaws. Dean vocalized Sam’s concerns. “How is that good?” Sam looked down in terror as he pulled out his pocket where, you assumed, the rabbit’s foot once had laid residence. The older Winchester couldn’t have said it better. “Son of a bitch.”  
All three of you dropped everything and bolted out the door. You knew that waitress spilled the coffee on purpose! You broke the golden rule; never trust anyone’s intentions. Man, something about being with the Winchesters just kept you off your game. Dean pushed open the glass doors looking left then right before giving his order. “Come on”. Your mood brightened a bit as you realized this was a good old-fashioned chase. You quickly passed Sam, then Dean, taking the lead. You were in your element. The wind blowing your long hair and your-

“Whoa!” _Thump!_ You stopped. Quickly turning around, you saw Sam on the ground face first. You jogged over to him, Dean already vocalizing his thoughts “Wow. You suck.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. He helped Sam up as he brushed off his hands. You took the opportunity to clarify. “So what, now your luck turns bad?” Sam had giant holes in his jeans and bloody knees as he looked to you. “I guess.” You look to Dean, actually a bit worried. While you’d dealt with many a cursed object before, you’d never been on this side of one. Dean apparently agreed, “I wonder _how_ bad.” He actually had a point. You took out a tissue from your pocket and gave it to Sam for his knees, then continued walking to catch up to Dean.


	3. A Lead

Apparently the boys had quite the tousle earlier with a couple of lowlifes who had stolen the foot in the first place. Although the details seemed a bit like a comic book, it was a good thing, as this gave you all a lead as to who the waitress was. Dean had, unfortunately, convinced you that it was only practical to take one vehicle, and seeing as there was no way in hell he was getting into your jeep with the quote, “T-rex transmission”, you ended up in the back seat of the impala, your jeep hidden off the highway. Eh, it could’ve been worse.

You, Sam, and Dean had your guns ready; walking down the hall to the apartment the boys had previously visited. After thinking about it, you squeezed your way in between Sam and Dean, placing Sam behind the both of you, as something bad was clearly on the horizon for him. Dean didn’t even count before turning the knob and entering the room. A dirty looking man sat on a chair with a bottle of alcohol and a picture, clearly in the process of grieving. “Oh man, what do you want?” Maybe the boys hadn’t exaggerated the details, this dude looked to be in pretty bad shape. “Heard about your friend. It’s bad luck.” Dean had his whole badass persona on in full form. “Piss off.” Alright, so straight to the point it was. You cut in. “We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit’s foot. A woman.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?” Dean took over once more. “Because she just stole it back from _us_.” The guy starts laughing and you honestly couldn’t blame him. It was embarrassing as all hell and you wished that Dean hadn’t said anything. Apparently it ticked Sam off though cause he decided to speak up. “Listen man, this is-“ He stepped forward, catching the cord of a stereo on his foot, which he (unsuccessfully) tried to catch and simultaneously knocked over a lamp. He tried, yet again, to catch the lamp and ended up pushing it to smack you right in the back of the head. You turned your neck to see the ruckus and saw a massive form heading straight for you. Before you could stop it, the taller Winchester had knocked you on your chest with himself on top, ass to crotch. Dean took the moment to reassure himself, “Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry Y/N/N. You okay?” You let out a breath and self-checked that no ribs were broken or anything. You were fine, nothing broken or bruised but your ego. “Peachy. Now get off of me sasquatch.”

“Right, uh sorry again.” You glared at Sam as he helped you up. Dean didn’t miss a beat, “I want you to tell us her name.” Right. Back to business. “Screw you.” Okay this guy was getting a little on your nerves. Dean’s face lit up like he had an idea. “It wasn’t a freak accident that killed your partner.”

“What?”

“It was the rabbit’s foot.” The dude scoffed. “You’re crazy man.”

“You know I’m not. You saw what happened, what it did. All the flukes, all the luck. When you lose the foot, that luck goes sour. _That’s_ what killed your friend… And my brother here is next. And he’ll probably take our lady friend here with him and who knows how many more innocent people after that. Now, if you don’t help us stop this thing, then that puts those deaths on your head.” What Dean was saying was actually making sense and apparently the lowlife thought so too. Hell, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was actually being genuine. “Now, I can read people…and I get it. You’re a thief and a scumbag. That’s fine. But you’re not a killer…are you?” Damn. Points to Dean Winchester for that one.

The three of you walked out of the apartment building and your cell rang. Bobby. Crap. “Hello?”

“Y/N/N, great news. Wasn’t easy, but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick.”

“Bobby, that’s uh…great. Except Sam, uh…(best to just do it fast like a Band-Aid), Sam lost the foot.” Apparently that irked Dean as he grabbed the phone and threw you a disapproving look. You could hear Bobby’s “He what?!” all the way from where you were standing. “Bobby, listen, listen. This hot chick stole it from him. I’m serious. In her mid-twenties, and she was sharp ya know? Good enough of a con to play us, Y/N included.” He made sure to add that last part in as he looked to you. That jackass. You punched him in the shoulder. He moved the phone to the other side and brought his hand up to rub the blow. The two of you glared at one another. “And she only gave the guys she hired a name, probably an alias or something. Luigi or something.” You took the opportunity to correct him, “Lugosi”. Moron. “Lugosi.” There was a silence as Bobby spoke. “Bela Lugosi? That’s cute.”

Sam started banging on a metal drain with his foot, temporarily gaining your attention. _What was he doing?_ “She knew about the rabbit’s foot, is she a hunter? (Pause) I guess she’s back. (Pause) Great. (Pause) Thanks Bobby, again.” Dean passed the phone to you. “Bobby?”

“Look, I know who you’re dealing with and I got some people who can tell you where she is. Just try not to get conned again and watch out for those boys ya idjit”. He hung up. Yea, you kinda deserved that. You snapped the phone shut and looked at the boys. Dean was staring at Sam, who looked like a kicked puppy. “What?”   
“I lost my shoe.”

Jesus friggin’ Christ.


	4. The Motel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my loves! Please feel free to leave comments on any one of my fics. I love reading them all and try to reply to each of them! If you have any reactions or suggestions I'm open to that too! Thanks lovelies <3

Dean pulled in to the nearest motel he could find. “All right Bobby thanks. Hey we owe you…another one.” He snapped his phone shut. “All right, Bobby’s got it on pretty good authority that this Bela chick lives in Queens. So it will take me about two hours to get there.” _What?_ Sam vocalized what you were thinking. “So, what are we doing then?”

“You, my brother, are staying here cause I don’t want your bad luck getting us killed.” _Not a bad idea._ He parked the impala and left to check the three of you in. Sam broke the silence, “Listen, I’m really sorry about all this. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for it, ya know getting knocked over and everything.” Great. You were gonna have a feelings talk. “Don’t worry about it. Not your fault”. Both cliché’s you pulled out every time things got serious, yet still completely truthful. There was no point doting on the small things, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind to blame Sam. “I just can’t help feeling like a toddler who can’t stop getting himself into trouble ya know? I just hate the feeling of being useless.” You could definitely relate, as a burden was the one thing you swore you would kill yourself before becoming. But there was no way in hell you were touching that discussion with a ten-foot pole. “Just, don’t worry about it for now Sam. Dean and I will get the foot and do Bobby’s ritual and you’ll be back to kicking ass in no time.” _Oh thank god,_ Dean was walking back with the keys.

The three of you entered the room and scanned it. Actually, it was one of the nicer places you had ever stayed. Sam commented, “What am I even supposed to do Dean?”

“Nothing! Nothing. (Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and led him to the chair) Come here. I don’t want you doing _anything._ I want you to sit right here and don’t move, okay? Don’t turn on the light. Don’t turn _of_ f the light. Don’t even scratch your nose.” Dean began to leave the room and you gave a goodbye nod to Sam as you followed…until Dean whipped around and faced you. “And you, you are gonna sit right on that bed there and watch him. Make sure he doesn’t die.”

“Why do I have to babysit?” Probably not the best choice of words considering what Sam had confessed to you earlier, but screw it Dean pissed you off. “Look, Bobby told you to watch our backs, so watch. I’ll be back in three hours, tops.” And with that he slammed the door. _Damn hero’s complex._ You looked to your companion for the night, who was, you guessed it, scratching his nose. You sighed, this was gonna be a long three hours.

You were only halfway through hour one and both you and Sam were getting restless. He was rocking back and forth and twiddling his thumbs as you were on your back, staring at the ceiling. You were trying to count every paint chip. Small talk proved useless considering the mood you were both in, so you decided on silence unless something needed to be said. _Man, this was boring._ You felt a bead of sweat form on your forehead. Under Dean’s strict instructions, touching the air conditioning was prohibited. Not to mention the last dick that had stayed in the room had the heater running on high. You were already delayered, wearing only your racer back tank at this point. It still wasn’t enough. _Screw it._ “I’ll be right back.” You stood up and walked to the restroom. Shutting the door behind you, you realized it was actually really nice to have a moment alone. You turned the cold-water faucet on and dipped a washcloth underneath. Finally wiping away the sweat, your nose caught a whiff of what could only be smoke. _Dean had gotten a non-smoking room…_ Your suspicion was answered when not a second later you heard a slight banging coming from outside. “Sam, is everything okay out there?” The banging continued before Sam responded. “Yea, everything’s fine!” His words and his tone contradicted one another, as he was clearly panicked. You quickly unlocked the door to see Sam standing next to the window holding a blanket. “What the hell happened in here?” _Flash!_ Sam’s sleeve had caught fire. “Oh my god! Hold on.” You noticed you were still holding the damp washcloth. That could help. You ran over to Sam, who had resorted to using the curtains to put out the flames. “Sam, hold still!” He turned around and took a step towards you, clearly forgetting he still had the curtain in his other hand and pulling the metal rod from the wall. When he turned to see the source of the yank, he simultaneously tripped over you, landing on his head and knocking him out. _Holy hell!_ You bent down to check his condition when you received a blow to the back of your own head, sending you into darkness as well, atop Sam’s unconscious body. _Damn curtain rod._


	5. Captives

_What the hell had happened to you?_ You could physically feel your body, but were unable to move it. Your eyes refused to open yet, so you were trapped in this uncomfortable position, unable to even survey your surroundings. It was extremely frustrating. And your face and hair felt oddly damp, to top things off. You heard a gruff voice. “I’m on a mission from God.” _Smack!_ Your eyes immediately shot open as you were snapped back into consciousness, the past events instantly remembered. Son of a bitch, you were duct taped to a chair next to Sam, with two older men standing in front of you. _Dammit, who did the Winchesters piss off this time?_ The crazy-looking blonde one announced your return to consciousness. “Ah, I see your pretty lady friend is finally awake. We already tested to see if she was a demon (well that explains the wet face and hair), but she seems to be clean. Just working with the wrong anti-Christ.” _Great. Jesus-preaching nutbags._ You immediately got to work, slipping your lock pick out of your waistband and starting on the tape that bound your wrists together. You’d been in worse situations than this before.

These guys were really working Sam over. He had fallen unconscious. “Don’t worry beautiful, you’ll get yours too,” The blonde one said as his buddy blasted Sam in the face with more holy water. These guys were creepy as hell. Sam startled awake, trying to blink the liquid from his eyes. You felt bad for him, as his face was bloody, but you had to keep your cool and continue working on those bonds. _Remember, level head…_ You’d been trained for situations similar to this. The blonde one spoke again. “You were a part of that demon plan to open the gate weren’t you?” _Oh yeah._ Bobby had filled you in on the whole ‘they released hundreds of demons to roam the earth’ fiasco. Although the boys didn’t cause it, everyone seemed to blame them. These two being here suddenly made a lot more sense. Though if they were smart, they’d realize that you were going to need all the hunters you could possibly get in order to win the war against hell. _Shortsighted asshats._ Sam answered, “We did everything we could to stop it.”

“Lie, lie, lie.” The creepier one had his finger shoved in Sam’s face now. You had broken your wrist restraints and moved to work on your torso. This binding was a bit thicker. “You were in on it. Probably your friend there too. You know what their next move is, too, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t, okay? You’re wrong about all of this.”

“Where are they gonna hit us next?” Sam sighed. There was no getting through to this lunatic. Apparently, no answer pissed him off because his next course of action was to deliver another blow to Sam’s face. “Where?! (no response). Gordon told me about you Sam. About your powers.” _Snap._ The bottom row of tape finally gave. On to the next… _wait, did he just say powers?_ You looked to Sam perplexed. “You’re some kind of weirdo psychic freak.” Sam began to panic, a sign you recognized as meaning that what this psycho was saying was true. “No, not anymore. I have no powers, no visions…nothing.” Yet another punch was thrown to Sam’s mug. The captor thought Sam was lying, but based on the subtleties, you could tell he wasn’t. Still, that didn’t excuse the fact that he had powers at some point. “Lie! Now, no more lies. There’s an army of demons out there, pushing on a world already on the brink. We’re on deck for the end game here, right?” So you were wrong earlier. These guys didn’t want revenge; they thought Sam was playing for the other team. _Was he?_ Bobby seemed to trust him enough but after this new information surfaced, you didn’t know if you did. “So maybe, just maybe you can understand why we can’t take chances.” The blonde reached for his gun and you began working on your bonds again. Just because you weren’t sure if you trusted Sam, didn’t mean you wanted to see him dead. Sam panicked, “Whoa, okay, okay, now hold on a minute!” Even the guy’s buddy wasn’t prepared to clean up a body, as he reached out and said, “Kubrick!”

“No! You saw what happened Creedie. Ask yourself, why are we here? Because you saw a picture on the web? Because we chose this motel instead of another? Luck like that doesn’t just _happen._ ” In the midst of all the chaos, you had completely forgotten about that damn rabbit’s foot. “Look, I can explain all of that.” _Nice try Sam._ Once you find out captors are crazy, there’s no reasoning with them, hence your silence for the recent events. Kubrick spoke up again, “Shut up.” _Told ya._ “It’s God, Creedie. He led us here for one reason, to do his work. This is destiny.” He cocked his gun and pointed it at Sam once again. Dammit, you still had about four rows of tape to go, there was no way you were breaking out in time.

“No. No destiny. Just a rabbit’s foot.” Son of a bitch, you’d never thought you’d be so happy to see Dean Winchester with his ivory grip raised. Kubrick seemed unamused. “Put the gun down, son, or you’re gonna be scraping brain off the wall.”

“Oh, this thing?”

“Yeah, that thing.”

“Okay.” He lowered his gun to the desk. _What? Never lower your weapon!_ You took back every nice thing you just thought about Dean. _Moron!_ “But, you see, there’s something about me that you don’t know.”

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s my lucky day.” _Are. you. friggin’. kidding. me._ Dean had obviously touched the foot, but the catchphrase was beyond cheesy. He then threw the pen he had picked up, which miraculously jammed itself perfectly in the hole of the gun. “Oh my god! Did you see that shot!?” Yes. Yes you did, and honestly, if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have believed it. Creedie then decided to take a swing and Dean effortlessly dodged to the right, sending Creedie into the wall and out of consciousness. “I’m amazing.” _We get it Tarzan, you don’t have to say it._ He then picks up the remote and chucks it at Kubrick, hitting him in the exact spot needed to send him to sleep as well. Okay, that was awesome. Though you refused to admit it to Dean. “I’m Batman.” And that friends, is exactly why. Sam rolled his eyes, having nothing else to say. “Yea, you’re Batman.” You reiterate your point. Toddler with a gun.


	6. Unexpected Visitors

Sam sprinkled the last ingredient on Bobby’s list onto the burning ashes. It was a warm night and you simply observed the procedure sitting atop a head stone, legs crossed at the ankle and swinging. Hey, you weren’t the one cursed by a furry rodent foot. Dean had explained on the ride over that that Bela chick was no hunter. No, she decided to use all the weapons against the big bads to ensure comfy living for herself. Honestly, it really wasn’t a bad idea. One you might actually utilize… once you were done killing the thing, of course. Sam interrupted your thoughts, “All right. Bone ash, cayenne pepper. That should do it.” Dean was busy scratching away at the lotto tickets. “One second.”

“Dean-“

“Hey, back off, jinx. I’m bringing home the bacon.” You couldn’t blame him. Hell, you would’ve done the same thing. While we’re on the topic of money, hunter’s wage isn’t exactly livable. Sam sighed and looked to you, silently pleading for backup. Sorry buddy, you were with Dean. You offered him a half-smile in reparation. Dean finally finished and tucked the pieces of paper into his jacket pocket, laying it on the head stone opposite you. “All right. Say goodbye to “Wascally Wabbit.” It was your turn to roll your eyes and provide a snarky comment. “Are you aware that you’re an _actual_ stereotype.” Dean smiled and winked. You were planning to throw something at him…until you heard a gun cock. You looked up to see the waitress from earlier, Bela apparently, only she finally ditched the fake-ass wig. “I think you’ll find that belongs to me. Or you know…whatever. Put the foot down honey.” Dean tensed, “No. You’re not gonna shoot anybody. See, I happen to be able to read people. Okay, you’re a thief fine. But you’re not-“

_Bang!_

Holy hell she just shot Sam! Well, did Dean really expect for it to work twice? You sprung into action, your fingers reaching for your gun tucked in the back of your jeans. She immediately pointed the gun at you next. “Back off, tiger.” You paused, fingers twiddling over your gold-plated desert eagle. Dean moved to attack and she directed her attention at him. “Back off. Either of you makes one more move, and I’ll pull the trigger. You’ve got the luck, Dean. You I can’t hit. Y/N is fair game, but given her training, it’s a risk. But Sam here, him I can’t miss.” You and Dean looked to Sam. He was standing and breathing normally. He was fine, for now. Dean looked back to Bela in disbelief, “The hell is wrong with you? You don’t just go around shooting people like that!” You’d agree, but if we were being honest, you had your fair share of bullets fired. You kept your mouth shut. You were a lot of things, but a hypocrite was not one of them. “Relax. It’s a shoulder hit. I can aim. Besides, who here _hasn’t_ shot a few people.” Her gaze directed to you. You narrowed your eyes and clenched your jaw. How did this bitch know so much about you? She looked back to Dean. “Put the rabbit’s foot on the ground now.”

“All right!” Dean’s hands shot up. “All right. Take it easy.” He began to lower to the ground. Great. Another retrieval mission was on the way. On second thought, you could shoot her while she was focused on Dean. Your fingers wrapped around your grip slowly, getting ready to fire when Dean threw the foot in Bela’s direction. “Think fast.” Her hand instinctually shot out and wrapped around the object. _Well, that’s one way to do things._ Dean smiled, clearly proud of himself. Okay, it was pretty smart… and 100% less bloody than your plan. “Damn.”

“Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” Not his best one-liner. Bela sighed. She walked over to the pit and dropped the foot in. She glared at Dean. “Thanks very much.” The embers flew and a gust of wind passed the cemetery. You were gonna take that as meaning the curse was broken. “I’m out one and a half million and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic, buyer.” You smirked. The boys looked unamused. Dean took the lead on this one. “Wow. I really don’t feel bad about that. Guys?” Sam grunted, the pain in his shoulder apparent. “No. Not even a little.” You simply stared at Bela, still trying to figure her out. There was something interesting about her profile that you were a little bit dying to uncover.

Bela began to walk away. She slowed and leaned on the head stone that contained Dean’s jacket. _Oh, she was good._ You immediately called that she was stealing those scratch cards. Sure you could’ve said something, but with Sam knocking you over (multiple times) and Dean tattling on you to Bobby, you figured why not let Bela have this one? “Maybe next time, I’ll hang _you_ out to dry.” Sam began to really fidget. Okay, he should probably get some medical attention on that shoulder soon. Dean thought so too as he responded, “Oh, don’t go away angry. Just go away.”

“Have a nice night gang.” And with that, she walked away. The three of you stared at the site where the foot had begun to really start to burn. None of you were looking forward to cleaning this up. It would pretty much be you and Dean, as Sam was down for the count with his shoulder like that. You and the older Winchester shared a look. _Agreed._ This was one site you could afford to leave for the clean up crew. No one said it was illegal to burn a rabbit’s foot in a cemetery. With a nod Dean went to put his jacket on and the three of you trudged to the impala. “You okay?” Dean asked Sam. “Yea, I’ll live.”

“I guess we’re back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck, just somewhere in the middle, like Y/N here.”

“Hey, last time I checked, I didn’t get shot. I’ll take normal over that.”

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Dean started patting down his jacket. Here it comes. You were just glad you got to witness the aftermath. “We’re up forty-six thousand dollars. Can’t believe I forgot about the…scratch…tickets.” Dean looked to Sam then you. You smirked and nodded your head towards the expensive car driving down the street. She even had the balls to honk. Okay, you kinda had to give it to Bela. Dean stared blankly at Sam. “SON OF A BITCH!” You smiled. _Satisfaction granted._  
 


	7. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter folks! Thanks for sticking with me. Currently in the process of editing Sin City, but it's a good one! please let me know what you think so far of the fics as well as your character! Maybe you have a prediction or request? I'd love to hear them! Love you! Thanks a bunch :) xoxo-JC

You pulled up in your Jeep just as the boys were exiting the impala at Bobby’s place. You’d had a lot of time to think about the happenings of the case once the guys dropped you off with your car. There was just one thing you couldn’t wrap your mind around. Well, two, including Bela, but one was clearly more prominent at the moment. _What the hell did Kubrick mean about Sam’s powers? And how did Sam get powers in the first place?_ You had so many unanswered questions. This sucked. You were torn. You never really were one to talk about the deep stuff, not to mention you and the Winchesters didn’t exactly have that open-discussion type of relationship anyway. Hell, this was only the second case you’d ever worked with them. The trust there was weak at best. However, there was still that small part of your brain that was nagging at you to find out. _Well, shut up little voice, it’s none of our damn business._ You slammed the door to your car and brought your black duffel inside to throw on the couch. Bobby greeted you with a smile and an “idgit” as both he and the boys had already cracked open a beer. He saw the look on your face and immediately knew, “Say Y/N/N, why don’t you patch Sam up there and I’ll get you a cold one.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I can manage,” Sam quickly refused. You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be stupid, Sam. Bobby basically keeps me on reserve to patch up every hunter who comes through here torn up.” You pointed to the chair. “Sit.” Sam obeyed and Dean followed Bobby to the kitchen, still in the midst of his recollection of how he basically saved both your and Sam’s asses Batman style. You decided to let the man have his fun. You grabbed a bottle of alcohol and Bobby’s first aid kit. “Shirt off.” Sam awkwardly slid his jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt. He sheepishly looked at you from under his bangs, embarrassed to be half naked. It was for nothing as you’d seen you fair share of _fully_ nude men. Still, you took a moment to admire his torso. It was one of the better ones you’d seen. You bent down in front of him to examine the wound. The blood was already beginning to clot, a good sign. You took the long tweezers and poured the alcohol over them. _Eh, sterile enough_. “This may hurt a little.” You stuck the tweezers in the bullet hole and Sam hissed. You couldn’t leave the bullet inside him. You dug around a few moments before removing it. “There. Hard part’s over.” You looked to your left to see Sam’s beer sitting on the table. “Here, for the pain,” you said as you passed it to him. He took a swig and clenched his teeth, fighting the minor aches. You dug around in Bobby’s first aid kit until you found what you were looking for. Again, you poured the alcohol on the needle and masterfully threaded the loop. You put the needle in his skin and made the first knot, ensuring it wouldn’t come out on it’s own. It was an awkward silence. That voice was still nagging at you to pry. It even came up with a legit reason for you to find out, seeing as not knowing the secret had nearly gotten you killed. _Screw it._ “I, uh, overheard what Kubrick said. About your…powers (that felt stupid to say out loud)…or whatever. Look, you don’t have to tell me or anything, but a heads up if someone else is going to try to kill me might be nice.” That came out harsher than you intended. You never were any good with soft skills when it came to the deep stuff. Sam smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, you weren’t supposed to hear that, heh,” he half laughed. You simply looked at Sam, urging him to continue. “See, Bobby mentioned you were kinda the shoot first, ask questions later type…not that there’s anything wrong with that! Dean’s kinda the same way, ya know? But I guess after today, I don’t really have to worry about you shooting me…right?” You smiled and began another stitch, shaking your head. “Not unless you give me a reason to. Is…there a reason to Sam?”

“What? No! But, uh, that whole Devil’s gate thing, well, the yellow-eyed demon kinda had a plan for me, well kids like me I guess. See, he gave me these _powers_ or whatever you wanna call them, and for a while there I was… getting visions…and… moving… things with my mind.” He said that last statement carefully, gauging your reaction. You made sure to keep a neutral expression, not giving him anything positive or negative to react to. He panicked. “But I swear, since we shot him, I haven’t had a single vision! Nothing. It’s like, they died with him ya know? I’m…completely normal.” Sam looked down and began fidgeting with his hands as you finished the last stitch and tied it up. You didn’t know how to feel about this new information. You stood up slowly and looked at him. The only response you could think to give was simply, “Okay.” You began to walk away. “Hey, uh, Y/N!” You turned around, meeting Sam’s desperate gaze. “Um, thanks. For my shoulder.” You nodded and continued your path up the stairs to your room. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?


End file.
